Da Newsgoil Banner
by BooniesBassist
Summary: What happens when New York gals interfere with the lives of the newsies? Read all about it!
1. The Pickpocket

Hiya! My name's Snapshot! So, my friends (Spinner, Curly, and Sketch) and I got together a notebook. We all agreed we should start writing a fan fic and I guess I was somehow choosen to do it. So, this is for my goils and they're newsie lovers. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Walt Disney Newsies characters. Spinner, Curly, Sketch, and Snapshot are characters based on actual people, therefore, we own them. Do not steal them without permission, cause that's just not cool.

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_The judge eyed the child through wired glasses. His chin was tilted upwards, his overly large nose held high in the musky courthouse air. "The jury finds you guilty. I sentence you a twenty dollar fine." _

_"Twenty bucks?!" The young teen cried out. Heaving a sigh, the defendant touched the cabby hat sitting on her head. "I couldn't earn that money in a lifetime." She muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man approach the judge. He was rather large and slightly balding._

_"Your honor," he turned and gave a snide look to the criminal, "I believe all this child needs is a few weeks of behavioral adjustment. I can provide that." A slight smile crossed the old man's mouth. What a suck up._

_The judge looked the girl up and down, rubbing his chin. "I suppose that is the best." He finally said after what seemed like forever. "I re-sentence the accused to three months in Mr. Snyder's House of Refuge." She could've sworn his hair slid off his head a little when he struck the gavel loudly against the dark wood._

Blue eyes flew open taking in its surroundings. The street rat whom the eyes belonged to was breathing heavily. Catching her breath, the orphan muttered to herself while standing up and brushing her knickers off. She walked out of the dank alley which served as her shelter for the previous night. Shielding her eyes, she felt the bright morning light warm up her cold skin. It was a cool spring morning. The busy people of New York were bustling down the sidewalk, paying no attention to the orphan girl as she walked in their midst. She swiftly outstretched on leg, then another, her head held high and her posture flashing confidence.

But, this posture crumbled as two plump policemen were spotted. The teen slipped into the closest small shop. Fortunately, the escapee had gone unnoticed. The pudgy policemen had passed right by the shop and the shopkeeper was currently helping a young man. The shop was dimly lit and a few display shelves lined the walls, a showcase in the center of the shop. The blue-eyed girl scanned the store's dusty shelves. A smile played on her lips as she spotted a camera sitting in the back of the shop. It seemed as if all of the light in the room was directed towards the device. She couldn't resist the shiny lens or the mahogany wood framing. In no time she had her hands all over the clean, new camera.

As if he had radar on him, the shopkeeper yelled, "Hey! You touch it, you buy it." Before the orphan could turn around, the old man had grabbed the collar of her shirt and was pulling her out the door.

Well, she was busted already, so she might as well make it worth the fuss. Slipping her skilled hand into the man's pocket, she pushed back, "Sir, I'se was thinkin' 'bout buyin' sumtin!" Jackpot! She dropped a smooth round ring back into her own pocket right after the man shoved her out the door. The pickpocket caught herself before falling to the ground. "Easy enough!" she cooed, walking casually down the sidewalk.

Suddenly, she heard a yell from behind, "He's got my ring! Stop him!" Everyone immediately cleared away from her. In front of her, the two policemen from before turned, recognizing her. The girl spun on her heel and ran the opposite way. She ducked around people, only looking back once to see the cops pushing citizens aside, creating too much of a scene. Just as quickly as she started running, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alley.

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End Chapter

I hope you liked it. More to come soon. Reviews are loved!


	2. The Wandering Artist

Alright, so I have about eight chapters written out right now, I just need to type it all up. So, here's the second chapter introducing Sketch! Yay! Remember, this is for your enjoyment. (Well, mostly Sketch, Spinner, Curly, and my enjoyment.) Don't submit a review ranting about how Spot is yours. I don't care. No bashing will be allowed here! (Unless it's bashing Sarah, o' course!) Anywho, enjoy!

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A large storm cloud approached the city of New York. In Central Park a brown-haired teen shook the hands of a couple with one of her recent works under the elbow of the gentleman. "Thank ya, sir!" She smiled as she dropped twenty-five cents into the pocket of her skirt. It was her first sale of the week. Being an artist in the streets of New York wasn't exactly easy. Business hasn't been "booming" since last October when she had traveled to a remote location in Pennsylvania and painted the fall colors. Now her paints were long gone and she could only afford charcoal.

The brunette stood admiring the spring leaves blowing in the wind. She focused on the dark thundercloud in the distance. "Better get inside." The artist mumbled and stuck her makeshift portfolio under her arm, exiting the park.

Small raindrops started hitting the concrete sidewalk as the green-eyed girl quickened her pace. She fingered the quarter she had just earned. The rain started to fall harder. "I'll just run into Tibby's. Two more blocks." The restaurant had become her favorite dining spot since her return to New York. The girl used her body to cover her precious works, but when that didn't seem to help, she concentrated more on keeping her sketches dry rather then what was in front of her.

It was like she had hit a brick wall. Stumbling backwards, she caught herself. The boy before her turned around; a sneer molded on his face. He wore a bowler hat and a bright pink button down shirt with rolled up sleeves. He looked well-off, a black jacket gracing his shoulders. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head slightly and tugged on her hair which was pulled up with string. Her portfolio was stuffed under her shirt and she was pretty sure it looked a bit awkward.

"Hey, no problem, sweet cheeks." He moved closer to her.

The artist backed away. "Well, I'se getting' wet, so—"

The boy cut her off, "Why don't you come with me, sweet cheeks?" He grabbed her arm.

"No!" she shrieked and shook free, hitting the boy a little too hard across the face.

He glowered as he rubbed his cheek. "You're coming!" His fist swung and hit her hard on her cheekbone.

She fell back and her sketches broke free of her protection, landing face down in a puddle. Just her luck. The brunette quickly stood up and grabbed the boy's stupid collar of his stupid pink shirt. "That'd be my living! My money, you jerk! And I ain't coming witchu!" She yelled as she kneed him, hoping for the worst, but missed and hit his ribs instead. Offense changed once again. The boy held up his fist.

Out off nowhere come another fist. The boy received an uppercut to the jaw. "Oscar, you betta beat it, if you know what's good for ya's!"

This "Oscar" stumbled away, cursing all that was around him. The artist bent down immediately to pick up her drenched portfolio. As soon as she lifted it off the ground, the soggy binding broke, sending her sketches into the puddle of rain water. They were now definitely destroyed.

"You'se okay, miss?" The just remembered savior bent down to help her. "You're lucky I came around in time. That Delancy thug woulda beat you good." They both stood up.

The brunette looked down at her soggy masterpieces. "I coulda beat him." She sighed and looked up at the boy who had helped her. Even in the rain she could tell he was handsome. Red suspenders lined his slim figure and a cane was resting at his side. She was almost reluctant to look at his face. He had firm, protective eyes. She squirmed when she saw him smiling at her like a child. "But, thanks anyways." She threw in, sweetly.

The boy nodded. "You gotta name, goil?" He seemed to be looking at her drenched papers.

"Katelyn." She said, smiling.

"Katelyn," He took the sketches out of her hands. "You draw these?" She nodded with sad eyes. "You look hungry. How 'bout I take ya ta Tibby's? We'll have lunch." He offered his hand. "I'll pay."

"I couldn't! I'm in your debt! Please—" Katelyn fiddled with her shirt.

"Nobody's in debt to Spot Conlons. Come on, Sketch." He took her by the hand and dragged her towards Tibby's.

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End Chapter

Alrighty, please review!


	3. Improper Young Lady

Yay! A new chapter! Uh... There's nothing else to say... Yippeee! Enjoy!

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"Stephanie! Have you practiced your cello today?" An old maid scuttled around the teen's room, dusting and organizing.

A girl was lying on her bed, her nose buried in a book. Her curly, light brown hair was pulled up halfway, letting some of the bouncy curls fall upon her shoulders. She grunted as a reply.

"That's rather improper." The maid sighed. "You know your mother and father enjoy hearing you and your sister play a duet after supper." Long, high notes of a violin floated into the room. "Why can't you practice like her?"

"Here we go again." Stephanie grumbled into her book. It was always, "Bernadette this!" or, "Bernadette that!" "Why can't you be more like Bernadette?" The younger sibling hated how she was expected to live up to such greatness her sister had achieved. It wasn't like she didn't think she could do it. It was just something that had already been done.

The maid walked to the edge of the bed and patted the teen's back, "Come on, Miss. Why don't' you practice with your sister?" The maid's hand rested on her back. There was a sudden change in the anger level of her voice. "Miss, why did you take off your corset?"

Stephanie jumped up to defend herself, "That thing is a torture device! How would you like shrinking your waist three times it's normal width and not being able to breath?! I'm gonna die wearing that thing!"

"Going to—" the maid corrected quickly while pulling out he hidden corset from under the bed. Within minutes the "torture device" was once again squeezing the teen's waist tighter then ever imaginable. She glowered and glared the whole time she was setting up her cello and then messed up on purpose causing Bernadette to sneer at her every forty seconds. The maid who had been watching them got up and started flailing her arms in the middle of Mozart right after Stephanie let all the wrong accidentals ring out instead of muting them. "Miss! Do you enjoy causing havoc? Do you think it's okay to be rude? Why can't you be—" She was cut short by the girl.

"More like Bernadette? That's just the problem! Nobody sees me as anyone besides Bernadette's sister! I'm sick of being proper and lady-like, and I just wanna do something that's not gonna affect the success of my future!" Stephanie threw down her cello and stomped to the door. The maid opened her mouth to speak, but the teen spun on her heel, "Don't you dare try to correct me either, because I just don't' care!" She trampled down the stairs and quickly slipped outside, running down the sidewalk.

She had only reached the edge of downtown Manhattan when she had to stop for a breather. "Stupid French inventing the stupid corset." The sky started to cloud up as the curly haired girl hurried down an alley. When had made a few turns and looked behind her to check that nobody had followed her, she swiftly stripped off her dress top and yanked herself free of the French torture device. It had started sprinkling while she was closing her dress back. The girl happily made her way out of the alley, leaving the corset to soak in the rain. It was raining hard now, and Stephanie entered the nearest shop. She was far from home and didn't want her only dress wet. She guessed that she wouldn't be changing in a while.

The building she entered housed several tables and a full bar in the back. The lights were dim and the air smelt of alcohol. Besides the fact it was nearly lunch time, many people sat at the bar, downing shots and beers. Stephanie sat down at a table in the far corner of the room, trying to push attention away from herself. She was sure she was the only girl alone in the bar. The teen started watching people. There was a boy dealing cards to a group of men who caught her attention. He looked Italian. While Stephanie was entranced by the Italian boy, she failed to notice three drunken men walking her way.

"Hey, doll." One of them laughed.

Stephanie turned and gasped, realizing what she had allowed to happen. She stood up, "Hey, gentlemen, I think I'm going to have to leave."

Another one moved closer to her. "Look at dat. She's talkin' all proper like." He smirked, "Nah, doll, you're gonna stay wit us and have a few drinks, right?" She was cornered on all sides.

The girl flinched horribly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the Italian boy from before. "Hey, bummers, back off." He snarled.

"Move aside, kid. Ain't you too young to be here?" The third thug hiccupped.

The Italian boy shook his head. "I'm here for da gamblin'." His eyes lit up with mischievous glow, "In fact, I'll play ya right now!" He sat down and motioned everyone to sit. Stephanie didn't.

"Come on, Curly, sit down." He grabbed the deck of cards off the center of the table and started to shuffle them, eyeing the drunks.

"Are you crazy? Don't call me Curly!" Stephanie yelled nervously.

"Calm down, Curls." He pulled her into a chair. "You'se about to witness a master of cards play. And you happens ta be da prize."

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End Chapter

So, what do you think? Please review!

Sam-Oh my gosh! Our first review! Yay! You rock. We love you!


	4. Boy in Pink

Alright, so this is a continuation from the first chapter, in case confusion was caused. We all thank you again for reading our story! We got 100 hits this morning! And what great timing, considering last night we had a newsie rally! Be warned, the drinking game isn't as fun as it seems, but then again, we're not of drinking age, therefore, had to use soda. Whoot! Well, thanks again, and enjoy!

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An ink stained hand immediately covered her mouth as she inhaled to scream. The alley was dark and the orphan couldn't see anything. She kicked and squirmed, but was overpowered by strong arms that pressed her body against another. The unseen body held her for a few seconds before the cops stumbled in front of the entrance of the shadowed alley. The body pulled her closer, trying to conceal themselves in the shadows. Luckily, the girl's light blond hair was bunched up in her brown cabby hat, or it would've caught light and almost definitely given them away.

The strong arms held on a few moments after the cops passed by before releasing her. The pickpocket immediately pushed herself away into a strip of morning light.

"Woah." The body walked forward, holding its hands up in peace. "I ain't gonna hoit you, kid. Jes tryin' ta help." Stepping into the light, the body revealed itself. It was a teenaged boy, about a half foot taller then her. Dark hair was sticking out of the sides of a light brown cabby hat. Her blue-eyes spotted what looked to be newspapers under his arm. She also noticed he was wearing pink long johns under his vest and shirt. "The name's Skittery." His dark eyes locked on to her blue ones. The orphan watched his expression change.

Voices were heard outside the alley. "We couldn't catch him, sir." The two police neared the entrance again.

"Shoot!" Skittery muttered, remembering they were visible at the moment. He pushed the girl back into the shadows, knocking her hat off. She could feel her hair fall around her neck as her eyes started to adjusting to the darkness.

The voices were long gone, but apparently, Skittery's eyes had also adjusted. He stood over her, his eyes wide, only inches away from her own. "You'se a—"

"—goil." The orphan finished. Skittery immediately pushed himself away and bent over to pick up her cap. "Thanks for helpin' me…" she grinned, "I foist thought you were annudder bummer tryin' to steal my catch." The girl held out her hand for the cap.

Skittery handed the hat to its owner. He started to walk deeper into the alley, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. "This goes to the oda end of the block. Shouldn't be any bulls there."

Upon reaching the exit, he looked back at the girl who had pulled her hair into her hat again, causing her to practically look like one of his kind. Her blue eyes smiled at him, causing some color to come to his cheeks. Skittery avoided her eyes. "You'se gotta name?" he quietly asked.

The pickpocket found it amazing that she actually heard and understood the newsie, but had thought fast on his question. She remembered hearing from a friend of hers. _"As streetrats, we'se ain't got much, but your name's important to ya. Don't you eva give anyones your real name, unless they can be trusted."_ The teen remembered laughing and teasing him after that, but she quickly shook the memory from her head. She tried her best to look Skittery in the eyes as she announced her new alias. "Snapshot."

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End Chapter

Yay! We also have five reviews. Thanks, Sam and Pippa Kelly!

Note: Not all the characters are introduced yet. ;D


	5. Keeps the Ink Off

I was gonna save this for tomorrow, but seeing that there's nobody commenting, here ya go. Check out my two oneshots! They're not related to the story, but they might ruin it for you. I dunno. It's Spinner/Blink and Skittery/Snapshot. Yay! Enjoy this one. It's longer then the others.

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The two teens were completely drenched by the time they reached Tibby's. Spot Conlons pushed the door open, causing a small bell to ring. The high pitched noise turned the heads of several boys sitting at a large table, probably just multiple small tables that had been pushed together. A small African-American boy waved, "Heya, Spot!" This greeting was followed by many more shouts and waves.

One boy stood up. He had on a red bandana and a cowboy hat was hanging around his neck. He spat on his hand and held it out towards Spot.

Katelyn watched as Spot did the same, shacking the wannabe cowboy's hand, "Hey, Jacky-boy." He smirked, almost mockingly.

The cowboy, Jack, returned the grin. "Who's the goil, Spot?"

Katelyn jumped a little when she realized she had been noticed. Spot looked back at Katelyn, a little flick of his head telling her to move forward. "Dis 'ere's Sketch." Sketch? Katelyn, or should I say Sketch, smiled at her newly acquired nickname. "Oscar was pickin' a fight wit her when I found 'er. I want her to hang wit me for a while no funny stuff should happen to her, Jacky-boy." Spot added, glaring as a threat.

"You got it, Spot." He shrugged half-heartedly, as if he only heard half the conversation. Turning to Sketch, he motioned to two open chairs at the long table. He stood next to her, as she looked over the faces of many orphan boys. Most of them had ink-stained hands and shirt sleeves. Newspapers were stacked randomly around the table. Sketch guessed all the boys were newsies. She was used to seeing them hawking headlines in the park where she sold her art.

Jack pointed to the kid who first greeted Spot, "Sketch, that there's Boots." Next were tow boys in glasses, one blond and one wearing a bowler hat, "An' that'd be Dutchy an' Specs." He continued picking random faces and matching them with names. Sketch tried to remember them as best she could. "That's Crutchy." Easy enough, the boy had a crutch. "Kid Blink." Eye patch. "Snipeshooter." Sketch was sure she could remember the cute kid. "Bumlets, Itey, Snitch, and Mush." This wasn't fair. Jack wasn't even going in a straight line around the table. Sketch greeted each one, hoping she'd learn their name's eventually.

Thankfully, Jack stopped. "That's pretty much all the guys here right now." He nodded, arms crossed, looking in control or something.

"Heya, Cowboy! You'se forgettin' me again?" Sketch looked at the speaker. It was a girl. A brown cabby hat covered curly, light brown hair. She had her arms crossed.

Jack looked surprised, "Oh, that's Spinner. She's da only goil newsie we'se got. Sorry, doll." He said while sitting down.

Sketch sat next to Boots and Spot took his place between her and Jack. He turned to Jack and started talking about some sort of queens and broncks.

"Don't call me doll, Cowboy. You're pushin' your luck already." Spinner sighed, Jack ignoring her.

Mush smiled and elbowed Kid Blink in the ribs lightly, "Cause we all know Blink's the only one she wants callin' 'er da—"

Spinner who was sitting on his opposite side punched his shoulder, rather hard, but Mush started to laugh anyways. Sketch couldn't help but to chuckle a bit, watching Spinner beat up Mush as Blink pretended to be too involved in eating his lunch to hear Mush's comment. The boy, Boots, beside her stood up and announced that he had a few more 'papes' to sell and the rain was letting up. He grabbed a small stack of newspapers and headed out the door.

Spinner, growing tired of Mush's childish comments, took Boot's seat. Sketch noticed black fingerless gloves that Spinner wore. They weren't like winter gloves or anything. Leather covered the palm-area of the gloves and the rest looked like mesh or something. There was a semi-circle hole exposing a bit of the back of her hand. "They're ta keep the ink off." Sketch looked up at Spinner who had noticed she was staring at her gloves.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry." Sketch tried grinning.

Spinner laughed and waved the air. "There ain't anything ta be sorry about." She sipped out of a glass of water Boots left. "Dat kid. Wastin' good money." She smiled, "Sketch is it? You come wit dat name?"

Sketch shook her head, "Spot started callin' me that. I'm a street artist." She nodded. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she tensed up.

Spot spoke to Spinner over Sketch's shoulder. "You'se shoulda seen 'er work. Dat bummer, Oscar, ruined it, though." He glared.

Sketch looked back at the boy, "I could always sketch some more." She watched his eyes light up, but she felt her heart drop to the bottom of her gut. During the rain, her charcoal had been ruined and she hadn't been able to buy a piece of paper recently without bargaining the price with a store owner.

A small sigh escaped her lips and she slipped her hand in her pocket. Sketch's heart skipped a beat. "That grimy rat!" She cried as she searched the pockets of her skirt.

Spot frowned slightly. Worry was in his voice, "Sketch, what's wrong?" She looked straight into his eyes.

"That bum stole my quarter!" A tearful look came to her face. Spot opened his mouth to speak, but Spinner beat him to it.

She was leaning forward with her elbows on the table, her gloved hands clasped together. "Hey, it's just fifty papes." She sipped the water, glancing sideways at Sketch.

The girl had her head in her hands. She looked up with a slightly discused look on her face."It's not that easy. That was my first sale of the week." She saw Spot raise an eyebrow. "It's Thursday." Sketch watched Spot as he acted like he knew that, disappointed that Sketch thought he didn't.

Snitch laughed and Spot glared at him, causing Snitch to quickly look back into his drink.

Spinner continued, "Why don't you just become a newsie, Sketch? It ain't dat tough." she smiled, "A goil could do it." Blink laughed slightly from across the table. Spinner spotted him and blushed.

Sketch laughed quietly, but slipped her head into her hands again. She lifted her eyes to Spot for an answer of some sort. He was looking at his folded hands. As soon as he felt Sketch's eyes on him, he looked at her and shrugged, grinning. The artist smiled, "Well, where do I start?"

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End Chapter

Now review! Rawr!


	6. Escaping with the Prize

Alright. So. This chapter is a continuation from the last chapter with Curly and Race. Ah ha. Thanks again, Pippa Kelly for reviewing! I also hear that Pippa's adding Spinner into her story called The Stars. I give the story it two thumbs up. That means go and read it. Well, enjoy this chapter!

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The Italian dealt the cards quickly. After setting the deck down, he looked into the eyes of the drunken me. "Poker's the game. One round. Whoever wins gets da goil." The boy swiftly picked up the worn, alcohol-stained cards in front of him, staring at them in deep thought.

Stephanie sat there with a pout on her face, arms crossed. She glared at the Italian, as if to burn a hole through his head. A drunk from across the table placed his cards down. The girl never really understood poker. Why would you drop out with a perfectly good chance of winning? She shrugged and watched as another man swapped some of his cards, but then set them down as well. The boy who had helped her and the drunk that first noticed her were glancing over their cards at each other.

"Straight!" The drunk declared, slurring horribly as he set his cards down. The boy smirked slightly. "Royal flush."

The drunk sprang out of his seat, almost knocking over the table. "You little weasel! You cheated!" He yelled, outraged. The man lunged towards Stephanie's rescuer.

The boy easily ducked the slow attack. He jumped up and grabbed Stephanie's hand, dragging her between the other confused drunks. "Come on, Curly. We'se outta here." They weaved through tables and chairs, hearing the shouts of the lowlife drunkards behind them. Pushing threw the door; the teens were immediately soaked in the rain.

After running a good distance, the two stopped to catch a breath under the overhang of a bakery. The only noises to be heard were the rain pelting the cobblestone and heavy breathing. The Italian straightened and looked the girl in the eyes. "Your welcome." He said with a smirk on his face.

What a child! Stephanie glared at him, "I didn't ask for your help." she said matter-of-factly.

"You needed it." he shot back.

This kid was as quick as Bernadette. Normally, the maids would ask for a full recap in slow motion after one of their usual arguments. "You wanted to help me. Perhaps you were jealous of those lowlifes." She felt a smile crawl onto her lips.

The boy grinned and reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a cigar. He held it between two fingers. "You wish. I'm just a nice guy." He stuck the cigar in his mouth, unlit. "As a nice guy, may I inquire what you'se call yourself?"

Stephanie glowered at his comment, "Why should I let you know my name? You already got one for me."

The boy pulled the cigar from his lips "I save you and you repay me wit dis? Look, goily, I don't see a purse on ya's, though it's not like I'm expecting payment or nuttin', but it'd be nice to know why you go by." He pouted a little.

Steph had to laugh. "My name's Curly, no? Now, I'd like to know what _you_ go by."

The boy bit his bottom lip in frustration. He held the cigar steady. "My friends call me Racetrack."

"I suppose all your friends have nicknames like that?" Steph tilted her head sideways.

Racetrack sighed, but then laughed. "You can say that."

Steph stepped out into the rain. "Then I guess I could be accepted into this group of yours?"

Sighing with a grin on his face, he left the coverage of the overhang as well. "Welcome to da street live, Curls. Let's get you inside. Da lodgin' house is a few blocks a ways. I'm suh Spinner has some extra knickers for ya." Race tucked his cigar away and rubbed the back of his neck.

Curly smiled brightly and flung her arms around his neck, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." she laughed.

Race wrapped his arms around her waist and blushed.

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End Chapter.

A fairly short chapter. Sorry about that. Please review. More to come soon. I will be updating faster once school gets out. I probably wont be on this next week. We have exams. Ahhh! Thanks for reading!


	7. To Tibby's!

YES! Finals are finally over! School's done with and life is great! So Spinner was officially introduced in Chapter 31 of Pippa Kelly's story, The Stars. It's amazing. You have to go read it. And it may be that Snapshot will make her appearance too. How exciting! Okay, status update. As of now, I have 11 chapters written and 7 typed up. Yay!

Disclaimer: I know I haven't been putting this up in the last few chapters, but I hope you have enough common sense to know that I do not own any of the original Disney Newsies characters. Snapshot, Sketch, Spinner, and Curly are ours though. Do not steal without permission. And I'm pretty sure you'll get permission if you plan on writing one of us into your story. -Wink wink nudge nudge- Hahaha.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

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"Hey! Wait up!" Snapshot yelled, holding her cap onto her head. "Skittery!" Rain was pounding against her body, soaking her clothes. "How far?" The boy had stopped to wait for her. "How far?" she repeated, shouting over the rain. It had started down pouring right after Skittery had suggested that they go for dinner at Tibby's. Snapshot had passed it a few times here and there, but never actually had a meal from the restaurant. How could she refuse? 

Skittery yelled back, "You're sucha goil!" He grinned, almost smiling, and pushed her soaked cap over her eyes.

The pickpocket quickly pulled the cap off her head to find the boy backing away from her with the slyest smile on his face. Snapshot glared at him as the rain drenched her hair as it had the rest of her body. "Who're you callin' a goil?" She put up her fist, threatening the tall boy.

"You." He emphasized the word, shrugging his shoulders.

Snapshot immediately took off, chasing Skittery. They ripped around a street corner. The girl knew the streets well. She smiled as she disappeared into an alley.

After a few steps, Skittery looked over his shoulder, expecting to see his new companion behind him. The drenched newsie stopped and waited for the orphan to turn the corner. After a few long seconds Skittery jogged to the street intersection. He slowed before rounding the corner, half expecting Snapshot to jump out, trying to scare him. He peeked pass the brick wall. No Snapshot. "Snapshot?" he called, looking down both streets. "You idiot." He mumbled to himself as he ran his ink-stained hand through his hair. "You left her in the rain and she probably got mugged or something. Stupid goil." He plopped his hat back on his head. "Snapshot!" he yelled once more before preparing to take off down the cobblestone street.

A pair of arms flew around his neck and legs around his waist. "You call?" Skittery nearly fell over from the sudden weight on his back.

"Snap—!" He inhaled, having forgotten to breathe. He caught himself, linking his arms with her legs. Skittery glowered.

Snapshot laughed and pushed his cabby hat over his eyes. "Geez, Skittery. What's wit the nicknames? I jest met ya." She hit his cheek a little. She reached down and grabbed his soaked papers, holding them over her head with one hand.

"You're _on_ me back." He growled, slightly pinching her leg.

She kicked her leg in response to the pinch. "So? You insulted me and this is your payment." Snapshot cooed sweetly.

Skittery sighed, starting to walk towards a warmly lit diner. "You'se betta get offa me before we go in there." He threatened to drop her legs, but she clung to his neck tighter.

"It's your payment!" she said in a sing-song manner. Snapshot let go of Skittery's neck for a few seconds, testing his balancing skills. She pushed her soaked hair into her hat, feeling her head making sure no loose hair escaped from her cap. "Hey." Snapshot whispered over his shoulder, clinging to his neck again, "You ain't gonna tell 'em I'm a goil or nuttin'. Right?" She loosened her grip on his neck.

Skittery neared the door. "Sure, but why do ya wanna hide da fact you'se a goil?" Skittery paused before reaching for the doorknob. "A goil can sell more papes then a guy like me. It's good business."

Snaphsot no longer felt rain pounding on her back as they slipped under the overhang. "I ain't a newsie, Skittery."

Skittery exhaled slightly as he pulled open the door. A little bell chimed as they entered the warm, dry diner. The boy nodded to the waiter then was greeted by a bombardment of "Heya Skitts!"'s and waves which Skittery didn't return.

Snapshot peered over the newsie's shoulder, almost meekly. "Skitts, who's your friend?" Snapshot spotted a boy with an eye patch. He had blonde hair and a blue… eye, like herself. Catching her off-guard, Skittery let go of her legs and her arms slipped off his shoulders. Snapshot quickly brought herself to Skittery's side. She nodded, resisting the urge to greet everyone happily, like she would normally do.

"This here's Snapshot." He placed his hand on her head, like an elder brother would to his younger brother. "A pickpocket. Sh—" A heel came down hard on his toes. Skittery held in a yelp and looked at Snapshot who had pushed his hand off her head and was fixing her hat and brushing off her knickers. He rolled his eyes and corrected himself. "He was gettin' chased by da bulls." Skittery shrugged ending his explanation. Soaking newspapers were pushed into his chest. He grabbed them and glared at Snapshot.

Snapshot's blue eyes scanned the large table where newsies like Skittery sat and stuffed their faces. Most of them seemed to have their own different thing about them. There was a boy in a bowler hat, another wearing a red bandana much like a cowboy, and the next wearing read suspenders. Snapshot switched her attention to the next two chairs. She stared, surprised to see two girls sitting in them. One of them didn't look at all like a newsie. She was dressed like an average street girl, but the other one could be definitely portrayed as a newgirl, a white and blue vertically striped button up shirt like most the newsies would wear and light brown short with large pockets, held up by navy suspenders.

The girl had been looking Snapshot over as well. She whispered something in the street girl's ear, got up, and walked towards the pickpocket. "Spinner." She held out her hand. Snapshot shook the gloved hand and smiled. Mistake. She probably had a girlish smile. Spinner motioned to the girl sitting, talking to the boy in red suspenders. "That's Sketch. She's new like you." Spinner nodded.

Snapshot held up her hands, "Hey, I didn't say I'se gonna be a newsie. I'se just here for a meal." The pickpocket lowered her hands into her pockets, fingering the stolen ring. Her wet clothes were starting to get sticky and clinging to her skin. She quickly buttoned up her shirt, hoping to hide some of her figure. Spinner shrugged and pointed to a seat by her and Sketch. Skittery sat next to the eye patch newsie.

Some newsies started getting up, now that the rain was finally stopping. Most stopped and introduced themselves as Snapshot inhaled a simple tomato and lettuce sandwich. Others nodded or grunted in her direction. After most of the newsboys exited and Snapshot had accepted Skittery's offer to pay for the food, the cowboy newsie, Sketch, Spinner, and the boy in red suspenders neared Snapshot and Skittery.

The cowboy spat in his hand and held it out, "Da name's Jack Kelly." Snapshot tried not to gag as she returned the handshake. "Geez, you'se drenched, kid. You gotta change a clothes, dontcha?" Snaphsot shrugged and shook her head.

The red suspenders boy stepped forward, "Conlons. Spot Conlons." He nodded, "We'se be headin' back to da lodgin' house. Sketch need ta get 'erself some britches and I'm sure Pinky over there needs to finish sellin'. We'll take ya off his hands." Spot received a glare from Skittery, who was flapping his wet papers, hoping to dry them. The eye patch kid had his hand on Skittery's shoulder as if to hold him back from lunging at Spot, but for some reason Snapshot thought that this Spot Conlons wasn't the type of guy people would willingly pick a fight with. "I'm sure one of Jacky's newsies is da same size as ya."

Jack slapped some change on the table and headed to the door. "I'se got some things ta take care of. I'se be seein' ya. Take anything you want." He looked at Snapshot and Sketch as he pulled his cowboy hat over his head and walked out of the warmth of the diner.

Spot, Skittery, and the eye patch newsie, who Spinner called Blink, followed Jack out the door. Snapshot was about to exit the same way, but Spinner pulled her away from the handle. Sketch stood beside her.

"Hey. We'se ain't as blind as all da other guys might be, so tell me this," Spiner looked Snapshot in the eyes. "Why you'se pretending to be a boy?"

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End Chapter 

Alright. Please review. Thanks to all the people, like Pippa Kelly, that have been reviewing and Lavendar26 for adding our story to her alerts. Cause that's a big deal for me. :D


	8. Just a Sellin' Partner

Alright, so here's the low down. I'm going to Germany on Monday! WHOOT! So, I'm going to bring my notebook, but I probably won't get a chance to update at all. Sorry for that. Well, as of now, I have twelve chapters written. That number will probably increase over the week. Yeah. So enjoy this next chapter. There won't be any more updates until July 5th probably. In the meantime, why don't you go read Pippa Kelly's story? It's pretty amazing. Spinner and Snapshot are in it starting on chapter thirty-one. I think. I must let you know that it is pure coincidence that the end of my Chapter 7 and the end of Pippa's Chapter 33 are pretty much exactly the same. So don't think that someone copied someone else. It didn't happen. What can I say? Great minds think alike. Hahaha. Anyway, I would like to thank Pippa Kelly and Lavendar26 for reviewing on the last chapter. I love you guys! Okay. Thanks for all the hits too!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newises... Spinner, Snapshot, Curly, and Sketch were created by us. Do not steal without permission. It's just not cool.

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Curly released the newsie from her embrace. She laughed as he looked down at his feet while speaking to her. "Well, it's still about midday. The gang should be at Tibby's. We'll check there foist." Race looked up as the rain cleared.

The girl looked up also, but then glanced back at Racetrack. "Who's Tibby?"

Race broke into loud laughter. He received a glare from Curly, but ignored it. "Tibby's is a restaurant. Cheap. The food's okay. We'se usually hang out there." He took off his hat and fanned it, trying to dry it.

"Well," Curly smiled and held up her soaked dress, "Can we get going?"

Race dropped the soggy hat on his head. "Geez, women." He smirked smugly, "Always so snappy." He walked, leading the way with his hands shoved in his wet pockets.

The two reached Tibby's after twenty minutes of exchanged insults and comebacks. The rain had died down to a soft mist. Curly examined the street. Two boys were standing around in front of a homely looking diner. One of them was soaked and the other was completely dry.

"Hey, Jacky-boy! See ya at da lodgin' house?" Race called out to a boy in dark clothes and a red bandana. The boy raised his hand as an answer, not looking back to see who had called him. Race grinned. Curly guessed the boy had figured out who it was. Racetrack did have a distinctive voice.

"Heya Race!" a voice came from the group of street boys. Curly noticed they were standing under a sign that read, "Tibby's". A boy with an eye patch waved wildly. His hands were stained black, proving he probably peddled papers everyday or so. The boy standing next to him wore red suspenders and tapped a black, golden-topped cane on the cobblestone. Curly barely noticed the figure standing in the shade of the overhang. He was slumped against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Hey." Racetrack walked up to the cane-tapping boy and spat in his hand, holding it out. "Got business here, or somethin', Spot?"

This "Spot" returned the greeting, "You could say that."

Race grinned as he turned, as if remembering Curly had followed him to the diner. "Dis 'ere's Curly." He took her hand and pulled her in front of the small audience. "Curly, that's Spot Conlon." Spot bowed and Curly yanked her hand out of Race's.

"Well of course." Curly curtsied slightly, her lady-like manners not yet worn away by the hour or so he had been on the streets. "Where I used to live in Brooklyn, even the rich kids knew about Spot Conlon." Spot looked pleased with himself. Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"I go by Kid Blink." The eye patch newsie bowed, taking off his hat. He stood up straight. Curly hadn't expected the newsies to be this polite. "And that's Skittery." The boy in the shadows grunted. Well, maybe not all the newsies had manners.

Racetrack seemed to be looking in the shadows for someone else, "Where's Spinner?" he finally asked.

Skittery spoke up from the shade, "What makes you think that she's here?" Racetrack looked at the pessimistic newsie.

"Well, she always is around Blink or sumthin." His arms were crossed across his chest.

Curly noticed Kid Blink blush a bit. "She's me sellin' partner." He defended. "You'se just jealous you ain't got a goil for betta business."

"What kinda business you'se sellin' wit dat goil, Blink?" Racetrack smirked.

Blink lunged forward, a fist in the air. "Race!"

Spot came between them, "Hey, take it elsewhere, boys." He pushed them away from each other and glared at them with cold eyes.

Race laughed slightly and looked at Blink who was glaring back at him. "Cool it. I was just jokin'." He shrugged. "Come on, Curls. Spinner ought ta be at da lodgin' house." He grabbed her hand and pulled her off in a different direction, forgetting the possibility that Spinner could've been in the diner.

Curly resisted a bit, trying to remind him that he didn't check in the diner, but he seemed to ignore her.

Skittery emerged from the darkness of the overhang. "Ain't ya gonna tell 'em Spinner's inside?"

Spot shrugged, "He'll figure it out." He watched Racetrack and Curly disappear arguing around the corner of the block. "So, you'se guys gonna finish sellin'?" He turned to Blink and Skittery, "It's gettin' late."

"Yeah, you'se comin'?" Blink removed a wooden crate from a stack of papers he had left there when he arrived at the diner. Skittery looked at his completely ruined stack of papers and shrugged.

Spot shook his head and tapped his cane, "Nah. I'll wait for da goils."

Skittery snorted, "You'se think we'se gonna let you alone wit da goils?"

Spot leaned forward, looking straight into Skittery's dark eyes, "Well, you'se gonna let that Snapshot character stay wit dem?" His stare narrowed.

Skittery froze. For a small boy, Spot sure had a way with scaring the pants off of you. He had forgotten about Snapshot's pretending to be a boy. Now Spot would figure out her disguise most likely. She wouldn't talk to him for the rest of his life.

"Let up, Spot." Blink butted in, "He's justa kid. He wouldn't try anything." Spot tilted his head, thinking about it for a few moments, but soon backed away and started walking, carelessly syncing his cane with the movement of his left foot. Skittery let out a small sigh of relief as Blink ran to catch up with Spot, back to his smiling self. Skittery glanced at the dark windows one last time before following Blink and Spot. Had Spinner already figured out Snapshot?

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End Chapter

Wish me luck in Germany! Love you guys! So you should love me back and review. :D


	9. Hop on the Bandwagon

Heya! I'm back! So. I had a really awesome time in Germany. But I didn't get as much writing done as I had hoped. Ah well. I was in Europe. Anyway, I'm gonna have to thank Lavendar26, aqua320, and Elke fa Taila for the alerts. Also Lavendar26 for putting my story in her C2. Thank you so much! So, I've been thinkin' about starting another fanfic set in modern times based on marching band. So, you should look out for it and read it when I finally get it up. Thanks again, for reading Da Newsgoil Banner!

Disclaimer: Me no ownie ze characters of Newsies. All orginial characters (OCs) belong to moi, Curly, Sketch, und Spinner. Ja. Bwaha.

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Snapshot backed away slightly, "Whada ya mean?" she felt her face warming up.

"You know what we mean." Spinner had her hands on her hips, "You'se a goil. Why you'se actin' like a boy?"

The pickpocket sighed and shoved her hands into her pockets. Busted again. She wondered what had set off Spinner's mind to come up with this conclusion. Well, better make it worth the trouble. "How didja guess?"

Sketch shrugged, "Just the way you carry yourself. And your wet clothes were kinda a give away, too."

Shoot. So her wet clothes had shown some of her girlish build. Had anyone else noticed? "Why do ya care anyways?" Snapshot raised an eyebrow.

Spinner laughed, "We'se not gonna let you sleep wit da guys."

"Look, I ain't aimin' ta be a newsie." Snapshot sighed.

"Sure." Spinner grinned. Sketch laughed slightly as Snapshot frowned. "We'se betta get goin' to da Lodgin' House. Sketch needs some pants and you look like you could use sumtin' dry." Spinner held open the diner door. A small bell rung as the girls stepped outside, feeling the sun on their cheeks.

"So this Oscar guy was about to soak ya when…?" Snapshot asked as she listened closely to Sketch's tale, like a little kid excited for a bedtime story.

Sketch nodded excitedly, "I met Spot." Her eyes adapted a dreamy look when she mentioned the newsie. Snapshot saw Spinner smile out of the corner of her eye.

"Home, sweet home!" Spinner announced proudly as the three turned the corner.

The wood building was shabby looking, wedged between two of the same type of structures. The streets around the Lodging House were not as busy as most streets in Manhattan. The only activity seemed to be at a nearby statue where younger newsies shouted headlines, exchanging papers for money, probably hanging around the Lodging House for protection. There was a sign above the wooden door that read, "Newsboys Lodging House".

Suddenly, the door opened and two teens stepped outside. One was an Italian newsie and the other, a girl with curly hair in a soaked dress. They seemed to be arguing.

"She wasn't there." The girl complained.

The boy sighed, "Well, that ain't my fault."

"Yes it is! You didn't even check inside the diner. She was probably in there." the curly-haired teen growled.

"Would you cut it out? She could be sellin' papes still." he took off his hat and fanned it.

The girl shook her skirts, attempting to dry them. "I can't see why you just won't let me upstairs to look for some clothes."

"Stop complaining! Get used to da street life, Cu—"

"Racetrack!" Spinner called out, "Is that the way to treat a lady?"

The Italian spun around at the sound of his name, "Spinner!" He practically bounded over to her like a dog that hadn't seen its master in a week. "You have no idea how long I'se—"

"We've." The curly-haired girl appeared beside him.

Racetrack changed his tone of voice, "Spinner, this Curly. She's new to da street life. I'se hopin' you'd help her out. I'se gotta finish sellin' today's papes, but I'll be back wit everyone else."

"I'd gladly take care of 'er." Spinner held out a gloved hand for Curly to shake.

The run away was somewhat thankful this Spinner girl didn't spit in her hand like Racetrack did to Spot.

"Well, I'm off." Racetrack was about to leave, but jumped as if he had just noticed Snapshot and Sketch. "Racetrack Higgins." he bowed quickly to Sketch.

"Katelyn. Er… Sketch." the artist replied with a nod.

The newsie spat in his hand and held it out to Snapshot. "So, Spinner's got a newbie bandwagon goin'?"

Snapshot held in a gag as she spat in her own hand and shook Race's. "I guess." She let go and wiped her hand on her knickers. If this went along with being a boy, she was sure she wasn't going to be a newsie. "The name's Snapshot."

Racetrack nodded and hurried off, catching Curly in a quick half-hug before starting to shout headlines while holding up a paper. Spinner laughed and shook her head.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was home late again."

"What?" Curly looked concerned.

Spinner smiled and waved her hand in the air. "Nothin' to be worried about. He just always goes to the races down at Sheepshead every evening after sellin' papes."

"That explains the nickname." Sketch shrugged.

Spinner opened the Lodging House door. "Well, we all know each other, so let's get settled." The girls filed in and stood in a rickety lobby. In front of them was a large, cluttered desk.

"Kloppman!?" Spinner called out. Her voice almost seemed to echo around the empty boarding house.

An old man appeared moments later, hobbling slightly towards the desk. "Coming, coming." he looked up at Spinner's smiling face, "Oh, Spinner. What can I do fer ya, goilie?"

The newgirl pointed to the three standing behind her. "We'se gonna need room for three in the attic."

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End Chapter

Thanks for the read! Please review! Yay!


	10. Improving the Truth

Alrighty then. So now I'm off for a week in West Virginia on a chruch trip. So... I won't be around for a week. So here's the latest chapter. Well, not really. Right now I'm working on chapter thirteen. Ahh! I'm catching up to myself. When I do catch up updates are gonna be reeeaaaallly slowwwww! Ah well. You'll live, right? Anyway, yeah. Let's see who I have to thank this chapter. Well, first off, softballgurl9203 for reviewing AND adding the story to her alerts. That's awesome. Next, I guess I'll just give a thanks to all my normal reviewers and readers. You're awesome! So... Enjoy! Nargh.

Disclaimer: Disney Newsies Characters equals NOT OURS. Spinner, Sketch, Curly, and Snapshot equals OURS. Rawr.

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"Extry! Extry! Carriage takes flight, killing dozens!" the eye patched newsie called out. A man in a suit approached him, handing him a penny. "Thank ya, sir!" Blink flashed his award-winning smile. After the exchange, he walked away briskly towards two other newsies. Skittery leaned against a lamp post, smoking.

He sighed, letting out a cloud of gray smoke, "Blink, you could probably sell all your papes without improvin' da headlines." He touched just above his left eye, cigarette still in hand.

Spot shook his head. He grabbed a paper from Blink, flipping through it until he found what he was looking for, "Wealthy mistress drives over pothole. Tires spark and nearly misses cabbage stand. Geez. This is all da news they have in Manhattan these days?" He glanced up at Blink who, on cue, smiled. Sighing, he walked out inot the street with five of Blink's papers.

The Brooklyn leader held a paper high above his head. "Carriage driven by governor's wife explodes! Flamin' death trap burns her and shop owner alive!" He sold the five newspapers within seconds. After thanking his last costumer, he returned to Skittery and Blink. "They bought so fast, one of the bums didn't even notice they paid me a dime." He grinned mockingly, flashing the silver coin in front of Blink's nose.

The half-blind newsie reached for the coin. Spot drew his hand back and pocketed the dime. "My sale." Blink glared at him, "My papes."

"So, those were your papers, son?" A man stood behind Spot. He looked wealthy, rather, he screamed it. Aside from wearing a suit and one of those silk top hats, a gold chain hung from the front pocket of his blazer. "You sold me a fake headline and I demand a refund!"

Skittery tried to hold in a laugh, but it escaped as a snort. The man looked at the newsie in disgust. He had a gold watch sitting in his front pocket, yet he wanted one small penny back?

Spot turned around after glancing at Blink's stern expression. "Can I help you'se, mister?" He stared coldly into the partly man's eyes.

"I bought this paper," he waved a newspaper in the air, flipped to the headline Spot had improved, and continued, "from a newsboy shouting something about a flaming death trap." Spot smirked at his own cleverness as the pudgy man stuck a fat finger in his direction. "I believe you have my penny, young sir."

Spot laughed, "Look, old man, we'se ain't nuttin' but starvin' street rats, an' you'se want one lousy penny back? Sir, you look much like someone of authority in a business of some sort. I'm sure you'se know what I mean when I say its justa trick of da trade, no?" He leaned forward and glared at the man. "I'm also sure you'll have no problem letting us go, considerin'—" Spot's voice quieted to a whisper. Backing away, he held the top of his cane.

The business man jumped back, startled, maybe even appalled. "I-I'll be on my way then. Good day." He grimaced at the boys, turning on his heel and walking away with haste.

Spot was grinning to himself, satisfied with the control he had over the wealthy man. He heard Blink whistle, "What'd you say ta the old man?"

He shrugged in reply, "Nothin' special." Letting go of his cane, he stretched half-heartedly.

Skittery shook his head, a sign of a smile appearing as he looked down and snuffed out his cigarette. "Well, let's get goin' before anudder one of your headlines gets found out." The still slightly-soaked newsie shrugged himself off the post, thumbing his damp papers. Spot smirked and walked away. Skittery followed, slouching, and Kid Blink smilingly hurried along beside them.

After a couple of minutes of silence, besides Blink occasionally yelling headlines near an especially charitable, rich looking group of passerbys, Spot stopped in his tracks, tapping his cane. He shook his head, watching a loud Italian newsie standing on top of the statue of Horace Greeley, not too far away from the Manhattan Lodging House.

"Extra! Maniac killer escaped from jail!" he waved the paper around wildly, his voice catching the attention of many city folk. "Families at risk! Read all about it!"

Skittery shook his head, "That kid. He's gonna get caught, sellin' like that right in front of da Lodgin' House." He had read the story earlier, with Spec's help, he hated to admit it. The headline in the paper read, "Manic Kilfeather released from jail. Wrongly-accused's family rejoices."

Blink shrugged and shook his head, "Not really, Skitts." Being that the Lodging House was located on a basically empty—and at times, eerie—street, a dissatisfied costumer usually wouldn't come looking for their penny, unless of course their soul was set on it or something. Besides, Kloppman would usually stick up for any of the newsies if an angry buyer came around.

Skittery sighed and watched Blink count his thirteen or so papers he still held under his arm, looking as if he was about to call the same headline in a desperate attempt to sell his own papers. But, Blink kept his mouth shut as Racetrack walked, or mostly ran, towards them.

The newsie slowed enough to spit out, "I ain't stickin' around here." before disappearing into an alley. Blink followed immediately, Skittery behind him. Spot scanned the street before entering the shadows.

Race was leaning against the stone wall of the tall building across from the Lodging House. He saw Blink still had about fifteen more papers under his elbow and analyzed it as a perfect teasing opportunity, "Your goil ain't witchu dis afternoon, Blinky?"

Blink glared at this, but did nothing more, knowing Spot would get ticked if he tried to start something. Speaking of Spot. Blink turned to find the Brooklyn newsie standing at the exit of the alley. "Spot?"

The leader turned, "Tell Spinner I'm gonna check up on me boys before the day ends. I'll be back by nine or sumtin'." He continued walking. Blink looked at Skittery with confusion on why Spot would want them to tell Spinner that, but the newsie just shrugged.

Skittery was about to head back to the Lodging House himself. "See ya tomorrow, Race." He said this because either Racetrack usually got back from Sheepshead after midnight, or Skittery would fall asleep before he returned.

Racetrack shook his head, "Nah, I ain't goin' to da races tonight." He saw Blink look at him in shock and laughed, "I just wanna be at da Lodgin' House tonight. You know. But I'se gonna hang out here until it clears up outside."

Blink shrugged, "I'm sure Kloppman'll cover for you if anyone wants a refund."

The Italian newsie nodded, "See ya later then," he started tapping the wall.

Skittery and Blink started towards the Lodging House. "Right," the eye patch newsie smiled. "We'll tell Curly," he joked before exiting the dank alley.

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End Chapter

Cool. Okay. So review. Please? Much love!


	11. Just Listen

Okay so, this chapter is longer then most, ranking in at 1400 words! Wahooo! Haha. Anyway, I'm back from church camp if you haven't noticed. Yeah. So. My updates are much slower too. Sorry about that. So remember that marching band fic I was talking about in Ch9. Yeah. So I started it! Yay! Read the bottom to get more info on that and possibly get your character in my story.

Well, for this chapter, I would like to thank all my reviewers since the last update, which include Pippa Kelly and Dotz. Well, which are Pippa Kelly and Dotz. Anyway, thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: This just in. Burnt-mufn still doesn't own the Walt Disney Newsies. Her dream is becoming less and less tangible from the looks of it, though, the author and her comrades still have complete control over Curly, Sketch, Spinner, and Snapshot. Tonight's story, will burnt-mufn ever gain control over the 1992 production?

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"So Kloppman." the ringlet haired girl watched the man from an indian-style sitting position on the floor, "This is Curly, Sketch, and Snapshot." she paused and looked at Snapshot, "Snapshot's… probably gonna stay wit us. He's kinda afraid of da boys." 

Snapshot lunged forward, "Hey! I ain't afraid of nothing!" She received a glare from Spinner. Sighing, she backed down, "But it'd be alright if I stayed up here."

The old man laughed as he hammered the last nail into the bunk frame he was setting up. "Alright Spin. Here's a new bunk fer you and an extra cot. You'se lucky we had these extra in the sick room." Kloppman wiped his hands on his old, worn knickers and lifted the thin mattresses onto the bunk. He rearranged his bowler hat on his head.

Spinner smiled, scanning the smallish room adorned with a bunk, two cots, and a wash tub in the corner. "Thanks Kloppman!" She smiled sweetly. The old man bowed and slumped down the stairs. "Well," the girl newsie turned towards the three girls standing behind her, "take your pick!" She pointed to the messy unmade cot right below a window. "'Scept that one."

Immediately Snapshot bounded towards the bunk and launched herself onto the top. The bed squeaked horribly as Snapshot sat with her hands between her spread legs. She was smiling to herself. The street rat hadn't slept in an actual bed in years.

Spinner laughed at the pickpocket's enthusiasm, "Don't get too cozy. Unless you'se changed your mind?" The newsie smiled hopefully.

Snapshot's smile disappeared, "Justa night." she muttered almost reluctantly, looking at the cushiony mattress underneath her. "Then I'se goin' back to me street life."

Curly shrugged and walked over to the bunk below Snapshot, sitting down to test the bed. "So, this isn't street life?" She stood again, realizing that her dress was soak it if she sat for too long.

Offended at first, Spinner stood, but then sat back down on her cot. Looking at the messy floor, she picked out a pale green criss-crossed shirt. Standing up, she threw the shirt at Snapshot. "Change into that." Spinner slowly dropped to her knees and started to rummage under her cot. She reappeared from the depths of her bed with a brown-white plaid button down in her hands. "No, bein' a newsie is as much a street life as pickpocketing." she saw Snapshot raise her eyebrow, "Curly noticed it. You'se been messin' wit somethin' in your pocket all eve'nin'." She paused and looked around the room, contemplating on what clothes should go to whom. "Sellin' papes has more dignity to it."

She smiled as Snapshot scowled, "Yeah, there's so much more dignity in selling a fake headline."

"Give dat green one to Curly." Spinner threw the plaid shirt she found under her cot up to the top bunk, "It's just improvin' da truth. You'll learn how to." She walked over to a trunk, unhooked the lock, and flung open the top.

Snapshot snorted as Curly wandered over to the trunk. She had unbuttoned her dress top and now had Spinner's shirt covering her cold, damp skin. She watched the newsie submerge herself in what looked like generations of hand-me-downs. Her attention was diverted to the window above the old chest. Newsboys of all ages entered the Lodging House. Their voices started to fill the floor below them.

"Here." Curly's vision was blocked as a pair of pants landed on her head. "These're Snitch's old pair. I think he's about your size." The girl pulled the brown knickers off her head and held them up to her waist, evaluating its size.

Spinner dove into the trunk again. Resurfacing, she held up yet another pair of knicker's ready to throw "Sketch!" the newsie threw the dark grey pants at the artist.

"…ner!" Snapshot, at this point still in her soaking pants and long johns with her shirt off, looked towards the stairs leading down to the boys bunk room. "Spinner!" The call grew louder, weaving through the talk of the younger newsies in the bunk room, up the stairs, and into the attic. "Spinner! Spin!"

Now the girl heard her name being called. "Oh geez." she looked at the stairs for a brief second, then slammed the trunk after pulling out a green striped shirt, "Come on, hurry up! Get dressed! Put a shirt on!" she ran over to Sketch, handing the unbuttoned shirt to her. Spinner scurried around the room, picking up wet clothes and throwing her sheets back on her bed.

"Snapshot…" the fretting newsie sighed as she placed the wet clothes in a pile by the fire exit. "You're soakin'." The pickpocket sat, wet, on the top bunk, smiling at the surrounding chaos.

"Spin!" The voice was now at the bottom of the stairs. The girl obviously recognized the voice.

"Hang on a sec, Blink!" she yelled back. Spinner looked at Curly who was now fixing her new pants. They fell two inches above her ankle. She sighed, not looking forward to finding a pair of pants that fit the girl.

Sketch looked at Curly as Blink called out, "You'se decent?" She finished buttoning her shirt, leaving a few unbuttoned, "Roll 'em up. See how that works." She watched curly bend over to roll up the too-short pants.

Blink didn't wait for an answer he trudged up the stairs, Skittery a few steps behind him, "Spin—" Blink looked around the room for the newsgirl, ignoring the others. He smiled when his eyes met hers. She didn't show the same happiness, though, stomping towards him with daggers in her eyes, "—ner?"

Skittery moved out of the way as Blink backed down the stairs, Spinner right in front of him. They reached the last step and only the muffled voice of Spinner could be heard, "Blink! Who do you'se think you are walkin' in on us changin'?"

"I asked if you'se were decent!" A boy's voice, most likely Blink's, answered.

Spinner fought back, "But you didn't wait fer an answer!"

"Well, you'se guys were all dressed anyway." Blink returned. All the background noise seemed to fade away. Every newsie in the bunk room was probably tuned in to the argument.

"Sketch barely had 'er shirt on! An Sn—" Spinner stopped and Snapshot exhaled sharply.

"Fine." Blink forfeited, "I'se sorr—"

"Just listen next time." Spinner ended it, walking back upstairs, leaving Blink to wallow in guilt. She glared at Skittery on her way up. The newsboy looked at Snapshot before hopping down stairs.

Spinner didn't speak as she walked to the fire exit and picked up the soaked clothes to hang outside. She opened the trunk again, "You'se can use anythin' in here." That was all she muttered before sliding out the window onto the fire exit, turning to close it behind her.

The girls stood in silence a few minutes before searching the trunk. After a half hour or so of sifting through the used clothing, Sketch and Curly had definitely changed their appearance. Curly wore the same shirt Spinner had given her, the sleeves rolled up to her mid-forearm, but now with brown suspenders. Sketch had rolled her sleeves up also, but she had found a pair of white long johns that stuck out beyond the shirt, reaching her wrists. Black suspenders held up her dark gray knickers. Luckily both the girls found an old cabby hat in their size. Sketch's was steel grey and Curly's; tan.

Snapshot took advantage of the opportunity, finding a new pair of long johns. Her's were worn from the winter before with many holes and loose stitches. She had changed into the shirt Spinner had found her, but wore it in the same fashion she always had; unbuttoned, untucked, and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Snapshot still wore her wet, dark brown pants, but that didn't bother her much.

An awkward silence filled the room. Sketch spoke up, "I think I'm gonna go check on Spinner. She's been out there a while." She opened the window.

"I'll come." Snapshot shrugged, concerned for the veteran newsgirl.

Curly let out a small sigh as she watched her new roommates climb out of the fire exit, then walk up the stairs to the roof. "Of course I'll come. Thanks for askin'." she muttered before slipping outside and shutting the window.

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End Chapter 

So yes, I am holding an emergency pre-CC(character contest) for my new marching band fic! What I'm really in need of is a piccolo player, but any entries will be accepted. All instruments (and guard) needed! I will add some characters of my own if needed, mind you, but I thought it would be cool to have the FanFiction Newsies Community involved in the story, so tell all your marching band/newsies obsessed friends! Please PM (private message) me only! Send me a message saying you're interested and I'll PM you back a message will the criteria I will need in order to consider your character for my story. Thanks again! Hope you enjoy!


	12. Breathing Exercises

Alright. So, I'm back! Yeah I know I've been super bad with updates and whatever, but today I added this chapter, of course, and a oneshot I spat out a while back, but never put it up here. So yeah. I had guard camp this early week and that'd be one of the reasons why I've been a slacker. Anyway, to add to the story, I've created a Photobucket album of some pictures and stuff that might interest you. You can find the link called "Homepage" in my profile.

I'd like to thank Pippa Kelly for all her reviews! They're awesome. I also would like to announce that the story has received 1000 hits! Yay! So on this special occasion, I would like to thank all my readers. You guys are love. Thanks for reading. Yay!

Disclaimer: Still do not own the original Disney Newsies. Geez, can't a girl fantasize and write about dancing newsboys in peace?

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As Curly shut the window, she turned and looked over the rail. Her wet dress and Sketch's clothes flapped in the wind. The view before her was unlike any she had seen in her old neighborhood in Brooklyn. Tall buildings shoot up into the sky, holding an industrial look, but it pleased the girl. Curly hesitantly left the view and climbed the metal stairs carefully to the roof. 

Sketch was standing by Spinner, who had her elbows on the concrete edge of the roof. Snapshot was leaning against a wooden shaft with a door, probably leading to a stairwell. Spinner let out a heavy sigh and straightened her body, resting her gloved hands on the wall. Guys, I'se sorry. I'se…" she paused to think, "I just dunno what ta say anymore. And I guess that made me angry and… I didn't mean ta yell."

Snapshot folded her arms, "Why don't you tell Blink that?" The pickpocket received a glare from Sketch.

Spinner stood still, no expression on her face, no blushed cheeks. "I can't." she shook her head.

"Look," Sketch ran her hand through her hair, "You're a confident, perky person. You ain't acting like that at all right now." She watched Snapshot push herself off the shaft and near Spinner.

Snapshot socked the distressed girl lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, buck up. Sketch is right. If dere's one thing I'se hate more then da bulls, it's people who whine an' mope, but don't do anything about it." she frowned, but quickly grinned as she placed her hand on Spinner's shoulder.

"Yeah." Everyone turned to see Curly standing at the stairs of the fire exit. "Just do us a favor and talk to your boy." she smiled.

Spinner held her gloves up level with her eyes. "I'se didn't even mean ta yell at 'em. I mean." Her hands dropped, "It usually woulda been fine, but everything was a little stressin', ya know?" Da headlines ain't dat great dis time a year, either, an'—"

"You'se been sellin' papes fine, Spin." Practically everyone jumped when they heard the cheerful voice. Blink stepped up behind Curly. In his arms he held two pairs of wet knickers and shirts. "I was comin' out ta hang dese up and I hoid you guys. I wasn't tryin' ta sneak up on you'se again. I swear!" he held up his hands in defense.

The girls couldn't figure out if he was kidding or being sincere. Spinner seemed to find the spark in his eye, providing that she was the only one who laughed. The rest smiled nervously on cue.

An awkward silence swept the roof. Sketch was the first one to move. "I'll hang those for ya, Blink." she hurriedly grabbed the clothing for him and pattered down the metal stairs.

Curly stood stiffly, "Uhh… I'll… go finda jacket or something. It's kinda chilly. I mean it's summer! What kinda crazy weather is this, anyway? It's not like… uh… I'll leave now." She grinned and followed closely behind Sketch.

Snapshot fingered the ring in her pocket. She eyed both Blink and Spinner. Shrugging, she ignored Spinner's silent pleas for her to stay. "Well, I hope it won't be too hard to explain to everyone…" Snapshot muttered to herself as she jumped down the fire exit, skipping every other step.

Blink stood with his arms in the air, as if he was still holding the clothes. Then he dropped them to his sides, shaking his head, smiling. "Some new recruits you got there." Blink laughed slightly.

Spinner leaned her elbows on the edge of the roof, grinning. "You bet." She paused and frowned slightly, "So I guess you know about Snap."

Blink he frowned and moved towards Spinner, "What did he do to you guys. I know he's young, but he was in there when you guys were changin'. I saw him. Do you…" he gulped, "Do you like him?"

Spinner laughed out loud. Blink stood confused, his arms crossed, worry written all over his face. "Snapshot's a girl, Blinky." she choked between laughs.

"Oh well." Spinner couldn't tell if his face was red from embarrassment or the sunset. "Yeah. I figured when I saw her up dere wit you guys. But, I was just checkin'. Ya know…" he quickly changed the subject, "Is she gonna tell?"

Spinner shrugged, "I dunno. I'm sure Skitts knows, but I think she told him not ta tell anyone. Sketch was the first to notice. I'm just gonna let her do whatever."

"Well, if she doesn't want Skitts tellin', I guess I won't." Blink stretched and cracked his back a couple times, wincing silently in pain.

"She might be leavin' tomorrow." Spinner was still frowning. She looked up at Blink and smirked, probably laughing about how loudly he cracked his back.

The newsie shrugged, "Ya can't convert all of 'em." he leaned on the concrete wall next to her. They looked out into the horizon.

"Blink, I'se sorry." Spinner kept her eyes on the horizon. She fiddled with her gloved hands.

"Spin." Blink smiled and put his hand on her arm. "It's not your fault Snapshot doesn't wanna stay. I mean, it's probably cause she doesn't wanna explain ta all the guys, right?"

Spinner swung a fist at his shoulder, "Blink! I mean about this evenin' when I exploded at chu!" she grinned, "I'se sorry."

He rubbed the spot where Spinner's fist came in contact with his shoulder, "Oh." Silence fell between the two. Blink suddenly flashed his oh-so-common smile. The smile that the city girls fawned over. The smile that sold many dozen papers a day, but right now he was smiling at her, for her. "Minimal damage." his cheerful voice broke Spinner from her small fantasy. "Apology accepted. I know you'se stressed a lot, so if you'se eva need ta relax, I'm your guy. Specs taught me some breathing exercises the other day."

Spinner smiled and laughed, "Thanks Blink, but you nevah struck me as da kinda guy who needs breathin' excercises."

Blink began walking towards the fire exit, "I… uh… was noivous. And it was startin' ta really show." He felt Spinner's eyes on his back, "About this man who realized Spot sold him a fake headline wit one a my papes." Blink lied horribly and he knew it. That didn't even happen a few days ago, like he told her. He was glad his back faced the newsgirl and hoped it helped cover up the lie.

Spinner remained silent. A small "oh" was all Blink heard. He tone was doubtful, so he filled up the silence with words.

"Hey, all da guys are in the bunk room. Ya wanna go?" he continued walking towards the stairs. The only reply he received was footsteps, which he figured were Spinner's. Suddenly he felt two arms wrap around his midriff.

"Attack!" Spinner yelled into his ear. He turned and grabbed her around the waist and pretended to throw her down the stairs, obviously stopping before he released her, but her momentum pulled him down with her. They both joked and screamed as they half-tumbled down the metal stairs.

Blink stopped before they stepped through the boy's bunk room window. Spinner stood with him, "Thanks for understaindin', Blink." She was still smiling from when they almost fell down the stairs.

"Hey, it's what brothers and sisters do, right? You'se, me, an' of course Mush." Blink smiled.

The expression on Spinner's face fell slightly. "Yeah. Right." she messed with one of her ringlets.

Blink looked at Spinner with confusion in his eyes, "You didn't tell da goils about yourself, right?" He frowned apprehensively.

"Of course I didn't!" Spinner furrowed her brow. But, within' a few seconds she was grinning, "It's still only between us." Blink smiled at her, like a child who had just been promised penny candy or something.

At the moment the window flew open and Jack stuck his head out. "Come on, you two love birds! We'se celebratin' our new arrivals!" the cowboy grinned slyly. He laughed as the two seemed to blush as they followed him inside the bustling room.

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End Chapter 

Awesome. Thanks for the read. Motivate me and review? Yes?

Don't forget about the CC for my Marching Band fic. Click on my pen name (burnt-mufn) and then on Tune it or Die. All your entries are much appreciated.


	13. Poker Night

Wahoo! An update that didn't take me a two weeks to complete! Yay! Haha. Anway. I would like to thank everyone, well, TheRedBandit and softballgurl9203 for reviewing on the last chapter. You guys are so amazing. And of course I would like to thank all of my readers. You have no idea how excited I get when I see how many hits a new chapter gets. You guys are my motivation to keep writing this! You keep me alive! (Cause I'm pretty sure I'd get slaughtered by Spin, Sketch, and Curls if I discontinued this.) Anyway. Thank you again! Enjoy this next chapter.

Disclaimer: Newsies equal love. But sadly, Newsies do not equal mine. All original characters equal ours, though. Stealing equals not cool. Yeah!

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A slew of greetings bombarded Spinner and Blink. As Jack turned with his back towards the group and wrapped his arms around himself, the shouts turned to whistles and wolf calls. Spinner immediately attacked the boy as Blink slipped off to join Snitch and Dutchy who were standing around a table watching Racetrack deal cards. Blink could hear Race's voice ending some sort of explanation. As he neared the poker game, he noticed the newsie sitting next to Race had a curly ponytail. 

"You dirty liar!" the ponytail newsie jumped up and pointed at Race after a few rounds. To Blink's surprise, it was Curly, the rich girl Racetrack introduced to them that afternoon.

Race jumped up as Curly had, accusing her with his own finger. "Who ya callin' a liar, you cheat!"

She puffed out her chest and stuck one hand on her hip, "How could I cheat when I just learned how to play?" The two kept at each other and the beginning excitement died down as the other players began talking amongst themselves or dozing off. Blink felt a hand pat his shoulder. He had to almost fully turn his body, thanks to the patch that covered his left eye.

Mush stood there with a huge smile on his face. The excitement must've gotten to him. Sketch and Spinner accompanied the tan newsie. "What's happenin'?" Mush asked, ready for some more action.

"Just Race an' Curly fightin'. Ya know, I always thought Racetrack was da wittiest newsie in Manhattan. But, I think Curly's got him beat. She's pretty cocky for a goil." Blink smiled, as he watched the two fight, "Not in a bad way. It's good for Race, I'm sure."

Sketch was grinning also, "But for some reason, I think they like torturing each otha, ya know?" Blink and Mush nodded in agreement.

A disapproving yell for Spinner ended Curly and Race's battle. "'Ey! Race! Curly! What're ya doin'?"

"CHEATER!" they both shouted simultaneously as both their fingers flew up, condemning the other. At this time, Jack had moved on over to the beat-up poker table and was examining the cards Curly and Racetrack had set down.

"Race," he held up both their hands, "From what I'se can tell, these cards don't look like they'se been cheated an' I'se pretty suh dis richie ain't got 'er cheatin' skills perfected on account dat she's nevah played before." He laughed, "Admit it, Race. You'se just don't wanna face da fact you'se got beat by a goil." Jack flashed a toothy smile. In return, Race shot his meanest glare.

A small squeak of a board turned the heads of the most of the orphans in the room. When it was evident that Spot Conlons, King of Brooklyn stood in the door frame all conversations ended. "Heya, Jacky-boy. I heard you'se havin' a celebration." He found Sketch in the crowd, "I'd thought I'd mosey on ovah. Dat fine wit chu?"

Sketch smiled. To her, that didn't seem like a question. It was more like a, "If you have a problem with me stayin', you better say it to my face." She connected her gaze with Spot's as he strolled over to the poker table after the loudness of the room grew once more. Race and Curly still stood, Curly grinning smugly and Race looking like he was about to jump the girl.

"You'se still in a game, Race?" Spot questioned. They both remained still before Racetrack sighed.

"Naw, Spot. Just congratulatin' a new arrival." He spat in his hand and held it out. "Welcome to da street life, Curls."

Curly's smile grew. She spat in her own hand, gladly returning.

Spot sighed, "Great. Now that we're all friends, you wanna deal another game, Race? Hurry up. I ain't got all my life to waste."

"Rematch?" Curly sat back down.

Race plopped down and went to shuffling the beat up deck, "Foist time's always luck." he grinned.

Spot dropped into a chair beside Curly and looked back at Sketch. He showed the slightest sings of a smile before turning his attention to the cards in his hand.

"My money's on Spot." Sketch turned to see the newsie with glasses—Specs was it?—with his arms crossed, focused on the game. "Race's a great player, but Spot has the best poker face on this side a New York City."

"I guess that'd make sense." Sketch laughed, thinking about how expressionless Spot acted around the newsies.

As Racetrack examined his hand, he glanced over the cards and saw another girl hop down the stairs. Her blonde hair was in a single braid down her back and she wore baggy boy clothes. Race wouldn't have been able to tell if she was a girl if she didn't have her hair out of her hat. "Geez. Spinner musta been getting' lonely up there." he muttered to himself. Race's eyes wondered to Spinner who was standing with Blink and Mush. She looked utterly confused as she stared at the girl who excited the attic. "Wait a second." He moved his eyes to the girl again. It couldn't be, but that girl looked exactly like the orphan Spinner had introduced to them earlier that day when they met in front of the Lodging House. What was it? Flashshot? No. Snap… Snapshot! By now, Racetrack had set down his hand and was standing up, "Snapshot?" The girl turned her head, "You'se a… goil?"

For what seemed like the umpteenth time tonight, the room fell silent. Snapshot scanned over the room, only to see confused and puzzled faces staring back at her.

"Well, yeah!" she coughed nervously and headed over to the poker game. Most newsies seemed unconcerned about the confusion and returned to their own activities. But those who had met Snapshot before at Tibby's crowded around the table.

Snapshot began slowly, "So I'm guessin' Skittery didn't tell ya?" Lies. She took a few steps forward, as if thinking about what to say. The girl stole a peek at Skittery's confused expression before spewing out an explanation. "Well, I'se an escapee from da Refuge. An' I ain't da cleanest record in Snyder's office, so I'se usually got da bulls on my tail." Snapshot gulped, almost loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Dressin' like a boy's my disguise. I thought there'd might be a cop or sumthin' in Tibby's, so I had Skittery cover for me. Right?" More lies.

The newsie uttered an answer of some sort and the crowd remained silent before the older newsies shrugged and returned to their conversations. The younger ones began to make up daring tales of running from the bulls disguised as anything from animals to the wealthy class. Snapshot laughed as three boys ran by her, shouting and chasing each other.

Skittery started stalking towards her, but was topped by a small boy in an orange shirt. He bent over to listen to the child.

Spinner was the first to bound up to the pickpocket. "What are you doin', Snapshot?" she looked her in the eye, "Are you'se stayin'?" Now Blink, Mush, Sketch, and Skittery had appeared behind Spinner.

Snapshot flashed a looked of confusion, "Who ever said I was stayin'?" The poker game had stopped and Spot took his place behind Sketch. Curly and Race twisted around in their seats to hear.

"Well, you wouldn't have bothered telling us if you weren't gonna stay." Curly threw out.

Snapshot sighed, "Look, dis hopitaility is great an' everythin', but I ain't da goil to settle down. This night is it, den I'm gone."

The rest of the night was full of talk and poker. Snapshot could tell Skittery was trying to get to her, but every time he approached, someone beat him to her or the kid in the orange shirt—Snapshot learned he was called Tumbler—stopped Skittery from getting too close. Spinner hung around Blink and Mush at the poker table where Race, Spot, and occasionally Curly traded wins. Spot tried to get Sketch to play one round, but just ended up playing for her. She won that round, well, Spot won it for her.

In what seemed like a short time, Kloppman stalked upstairs and complained about the noise jokingly, sending the girls to the attic and the boys to bed. When the girls had said their goodnights, Snapshot planned out the next morning. She knew she would dread saying goodbye, so she told herself that she'd leave without note. She'd wake before the others and sneak out the fire exit. Snapshot knew she had to leave, but the reason kept escaping her mind. Finally, her drowsiness pulled her eyelids shut and they refused to open until her ears picked up a loud yell from Kloppman, "Boots!"

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End Chapter 

Yay! I hope it wasn't too corny for you. I had issues with that. Oh well. I'm a perfectionist. Anyway. Feed my motivation! You don't want me to die!... Right?... Haha. Review please. Love!


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